


Grab a glass because there's going to be a flood

by ber_g



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Blood Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23677129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ber_g/pseuds/ber_g
Summary: Bowers’ body is still warm when Bill turns to look at him. Eddie’s trying not to shake, trying not to think about the blood on his sneakers.(set in a murder group!Loser's Club AU; crossposting from derrykink)
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 21





	Grab a glass because there's going to be a flood

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt was for a Bill/Eddie/Richie bloody threesome. Set in an AU where the Loser's Club are group of murderers; implications of various combos of the Loser’s Club fucking, although this is all Bill/Eddie/Richie. Lots of blood kink obviously, dubcon-y in that Eddie is into the sex but freaked out by the blood. Age is unspecified teens, I imagined they’re around fifteen-sixteen. Title is from Blood by MCR, lol. Crossposting this and my other fills from derrykink @ dreamwidth; this was originally written and posted there in 2019.

Bowers’ body is still warm when Bill turns to look at him. Eddie’s trying not to shake, trying not to think about the blood on his sneakers. It was a messy kill - why does Bill have to do it so messy? They sprung the trap on him and got him pinned seven to one, could’ve done it quick and neat with one of Mike’s bolts while he was held down or something but no, Bill had to take Bowers’ own knife and -

Bill stuffs his hand in his pocket, feeling for something bulging there, and then reaches for Eddie. He goes, because it’s Bill, and they’ll all go anywhere for Bill, but he’s still fucking terrified and his hand trembles when Bill grabs it and smears the blood all over his palm, over his barely-healed scar.

“C-c’mon.” In his space now, Bill’s crowding him over by the body and Eddie does not want to go there. He squeezes Bill’s hand back, pleading without words, lets himself sink into a moment when Bill presses in and kisses him. Bill’s lips are chapped, and his sweaty bangs brush over Eddie’s forehead where he looms over him, the first Loser to hit a growth spurt since Bev started towering over them all. This is easy, this is fine, Bill’s hands are on his hips and Eddie’s gonna need to change into clean clothes and sneak his laundry past his mommy but Bill’s stopped pushing him towards Bowers so it’s okay. Bill’s tongue in his mouth is wet and hot and it should be gross but Eddie’s mostly just really, really hard.

“Jesus, guys, keep it in your pants till we get the dead guy out of here at least.” Richie’s voice from behind makes Bill pull back and Eddie does not whimper at that, thanks. Bill’s hands are still moving on Eddie’s back now, smearing and warm and Eddie shudders and tries to arch away from it, which just ends up with him shoving his dick against Bill’s hip.

“Come here. H-h-help me.” Bill’s got his fiercely focused voice on, the one where you barely notice he’s stuttering in favor of snapping to attention in his arms. Richie takes a second but then Eddie hears him walking over and feels him, not quite as tall as Bill but Eddie still fits up against his shoulder and feels every lacking inch.

“What’re we helping with?”

“H-hold him down.”

“What, here? Dude, you’ve gotta be blinder than I am, we’re standing in a fucking puddle of blood.”

“I know. Come on, help.” Richie’s quiet for once, even motormouth can’t think of a response to that, and Bill’s taking this opportunity to pop the fly on Eddie’s cutoffs and shove his hand down the back to grab his ass. Richie’s hands brush over Eddie’s sides, light enough to make him shudder, and then there’s a hot mouth on his neck and fingers dragging him down to the ground.

They nearly slip in the blood and Eddie shudders when his ass hits the floor and it soaks through his shorts. He tries to sit up, move to the clear patch of linoleum beside them but Bill shoves him down and fucks his tongue into Eddie’s mouth. The blood is disgusting, sticky and warm on his shoulderblades, making his thin t-shirt cling to his skin. Bill’s hands are all over like he’s going fucking crazy for it. The folded up knife in his pocket presses an indent into Eddie’s hip.

“R-richie.” More hands, pushing Eddie’s shoulders down in the slick blood. It’s in his hair, the back of his neck. He can’t stop the shaking.

“Bill - Bill, can we move? Bowers probably had like a million diseases, we’re gonna get super-AIDS here, look we could just move over - ” Bill bites down on his earlobe and shoves Eddie’s shorts down and off his knobbly legs, yanks his sneakers off as he goes and grabs something out of his own pocket to drop on the floor by Eddie’s head. He tries to twist to see what it is but Bill’s kissing him again, gentle and sweet and relentless, and Eddie sinks into it and focuses on forgetting where they are and what they just did. Whatever the thing is, Richie grabs it and does something that makes a plastic scraping noise.

“Bill, come on, Bill please.”

“Eddie, c-come on, I wanna - wanna do it here.” Bill sounds so out of breath, desperate and grinding down into him and Eddie’s thighs spread automatically. Richie whimpers somewhere hazily nearby.

Bill shifts onto one elbow, grabs for something and then he’s working two thin fingers into Eddie. Eddie can finally roll his head to the side, see the red-smeared tub of vaseline sitting by his head. Richie curls fingers into his hair, scooting close enough to look down at Eddie’s face and carefully scratch over his cheekbone with a thumb. Bill’s fingers are so long and steady even though he’s shaking where he’s pressed chest to chest with Eddie. They stroke over him from the inside, making him gasp and squirm. A nail bumps his prostate and he whines loudly.

“G-good...good job, Eddie.” It’s clearly a struggle to get the words out, Bill’s wild-eyed and it makes Eddie’s dick jerk. The blood thing is fucking vile but Bill is so clearly getting off on it, pawing streaks of cherry all over Eddie’s pale belly where his t-shirt’s rucked up and sticking below him. He pulls his fingers out and they’re glossy with vaseline and blood.

He backs off a little, just enough to fumble his shorts down. Richie uses the opportunity to lean down and kiss Eddie messy and desperate upside down, knocking his nose into Eddie’s chin. He opens for it easy, lets Richie drag his tongue over his lower teeth and then hands land on his hips and Bill’s dick is nudging in.

The blood is tacky where it’s drying all over them and making this harder than it needs to be, not at all like usual where Bill spends an hour opening Eddie up until he’s nearly dripping before he lets anyone inside. Eddie tries to focus on the stretch, the familiar ache in his hips where Bill’s angling them up, on anything but the bitter smell of metal clogging his nose.

Bill pushes in further, not rough but insistent and Eddie clutches at Richie’s hands, breathes into his mouth and lets Bill in until he can slump all the way over him. He presses his head against Richie’s, groping around under the sweat-and-blood-slick small of Eddie’s back until he’s got a better grip on him and then he’s thrusting, well-loved rhythm dragging sobs and whines out of Eddie’s throat.

“F-f-f-fuck, Eddie.” Eddie jerks his chin when Bill slides right against his prostate, making Richie yelp and pull back, squeeze Eddie’s palms in his shaky fingers.

“Bill - Bill, Bill, jesus christ, we’re gonna get so sick, it’s so dirty. Bill, Bowers is dead and we’re - his blood is all over, oh, god.” There’s a pit of nausea in Eddie’s stomach, but it’s being methodically fucked out of him by Bill’s dick slamming into him, the red-rimmed frantic look in Bill’s eyes as he stares down at Eddie where they’re connecting, the trembling, reverential way he traces patterns over Eddie’s skin in bright ichor.

“Jesus, Eds, you’re so fucked right now.” Eddie sobs, twists his head against Richie’s hands still loosely curled around his cheeks. Bill’s speeding up, panting hard as his hips drive in deep as he can get, working a furrow in Eddie’s body. Richie leans over again. He kisses Eddie sloppy and quick and before he can protest, bites down on his lip. It’s already chapped from the summer heat and it splits easy, making Eddie clench up and howl. Pain and pleasure splinter across each other in his brain and his dick jerks and glazes all over the red-painted designs on his stomach. Bill loses his rhythm entirely and just grinds in, shoving his face against Eddie’s shoulder and shouting not-even-words as he overflows into Eddie’s ass.

He pulls out quick, still panting, and just looks down dazed at Eddie, who’s shaking and moaning as the jizz settles inside him. He knee-walks back, letting Eddie’s thighs drop and buttoning his shorts back up as he goes. They’re still covered in rusty red blood, dark against the denim and blazing on his scuffed pale knees.

“R-Richie, come on. You take a t-turn too.” Richie whines through his teeth, eyes completely blown out as he stares down at Eddie. There’s blood smeared on his chin and cheek from Eddie’s lip. He scrambles down, yanking off his overshirt and shoving down his jeans. Eddie’s still slick and open from Bill and Richie’s dick is shoving insistently against the elastic waistband of his underwear, before he shoves those down too and slides into Eddie.

He’s a little thicker than Bill, still stretching Eddie out further as he rocks into his messy hole. Eddie’s legs come up automatic under his hands, wrapping around his hips and clutching him closer. This is familiar too, the way Richie gets desperate when he goes after Bill, mumbling and biting over Eddie’s collarbone. “God - fucking sloppy seconds, you’re so hot inside right now, little dirty slut so good for us, gonna make me come, we fucking killed a guy and now you’re letting us fuck you in a puddle of blood, Eds you’re fucking perfect.” He wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist and pulls him over. Bill reaches over to help, arranging Eddie’s back up against Richie’s knees so he stays propped up over him. He’s sunk down, Richie as deep as he can get under him, hiccupping breaths forced out of his throat every time he rolls his hips.

Richie won’t stop talking but Eddie has no idea what he’s saying. All he can think is that Richie looks like fucking Snow White under him with his dark hair and pale skin and red-smeared lips. Richie pushes up and yanks Eddie down at the same time, yells and swears and comes. The moonlight from the half-cracked window in the kitchen makes the blood look even darker, more permanent on them. Eddie whines and squirms around Richie’s slowly softening dick and two loads of come in his ass.

They hang there for a moment before there’s a quiet knock on the door and Stan steps back into the house holding a towel. He skips right over the thing that used to be Bowers and to Richie and Eddie in a sweaty tangle, Bill rubbing the back of his hand against his forehead and smearing a line of red there. Stan’s eyes are dark and focused on Eddie’s trembling frame, and there’s a less-than-subtle tent to the fabric of his pants.

“C’mon, the others are waiting. Bev’s got Mike and Bill, they can deal with Henry. We should get you cleaned up.” Richie slides out and helps Eddie stand up, he and Bill propping him up on their shoulders and getting his shorts back up barely-functional legs. He’s still leaking come and his whole back and a lot of his front is smeared with Bowers’ blood. Stan wraps the towel around him, gentle, and holds the door for them to hobble out into the cool air of the backyard. Bill’s fingers are still messy with wet blood on Eddie’s flank; he must have dragged them through the pool of it one last time, the rest of it’s starting to dry on their overheated skin.

“H-hockstetter’s turn, next weekend.”


End file.
